Wanted Dead Or Alive
by Melda Burke
Summary: The Maitlands have moved on to that Great Bland Condo In The Sky, meanwhile Lydia is feeling lonely and decides to fill the void by enlisting our favorite Ghost with the Most to pull a mind-blowing prank on her rival. However, there's a bit of a problem. Beej is a wanted man and not in the way he'd like to think...
1. Chapter 1

AN:3/ I don't own Beetlejuice NOR do I make any money off this story. The only thing I may lay claim to is the plot and maybe some OCs... anyway..ON WITH THE SHOW!

****(^w^)****

Betelgeuse.

Three years.

Betegeuse peered into a compact mirror that he'd pilfered on a job about two centuries ago in Yokapatawa county. The compact actually had some great history behind it, having belonged to some old broad with a rose. However, that was not of importance. The image in the compact was the big shocker.

No way. He grinned and polished his ragged nails on the lapel of his pinstriped coat. After all of this time? Well, granted for a ghoul three years wasn't a lot, but in the human world it was. Loads could change there in such a small amount of time and that's why the place amused him. It never got boring.

It was the exact opposite of the Neitherworld where he was forced to spend two years, two frigging years seated next to a Witch Doctor (minus the fucking chipmunks) and a mute, with nothing to do except twiddle his yellowed red-tipped thumbs. They might as well have made him take a bath again! Speaking of which, he sniffed his armpits and checked his breath. They would've sent a skunk reeling...

Perfect.

Betelgeuse.

Twice! She said it twice! He rubbed his hands together gleefully. Oh, what he had in store for when he was free! All of the pranks and mischief..he'd pitched an awful fit about thirteen months in because he hadn't pulled anything. Plus, the visitors weren't helping with his withdrawl. "Fuck you, Puck." He muttered. The damned pixie on his trips to the Neitherworld would never fail to regail Beej with his tales of chaos. Loki was even worse because he was down there more often.

High and mighty Loki was Juno's new _assistant_. Truthfully, Beej knew that the old bat was just a cougar and the unpaid intern thing was office lingo for 'blowjobs on the job'. Talk about 'on the job' training. Sheesh.

He tapped his foot. "Any time now, sweetcheeks." He peered closer at the image in the mirror. Normally, he would be able to see a faint ectoplasmic aura in the background that would be the residue of energy from Barbara and Adam. Yet..there was nothing. He brushed it off, oh well, it wasn't any of his business. Why should he care?

Beej could see that she'd grown up a bit. What was she back then..fourteen? Fifteen? Hmm, she had to be at least eighteen by now. She wasn't wearing that veil at the moment, either. Maybe she'd outgrown- he saw a flash of black roses and a bed draped with a dark purple bedspread- guess not.

Betelgeuse.

"It's SHOWTIME!" There was a flash of smoke, the stink of liquified rotten eggs, and a whiff of spoiled meat. The roadhouse was empty once again.

Lydia had decided that there was only one thing to do. After all, a girl can only take so much stress. With the Maitlands gone, she'd had to deal with her parents all by herself for the past six months. She'd begun to lose her mind, honestly, she thought that she'd fall back into the state of wanton self-destruction she'd harboured up until she met the Maitlands.

The Maitlands, as much as they loved the house and Lydia, had decided to move on. She could understand their reasoning. What kind of person would want to be cooped up in a house for more than a century? Her parents weren't exactly thrilled with the news. As far as they were concerned, the Maitlands were their only defense against a certain fast-talking ghost with the most.

So far, she'd deal with even him as long as it meant escaping her parents' droll normal lives. She loved them, of course, but in the same way that people tend to love the ones who drive them completely insane. So she drew a deep breath and said his name for the final time. "Betelgeuse!"

"Hello, darlin'. Didja miss me?" A familiar drawl called from behind her. She whipped around to see a pin-striped, gaunt rabbit hovering in mid-air. Wait, she squinted at it, rabbits didn't have black and white horns protruding from their skulls. And they definitely didn't have snake-shaped tongues, either.

"B-" He shot her a warning glare. "What in the world are you doing?" She asked in disbelief. "You look like a rabbit that Stein from Soul Eater stiched together from some spare parts!"

"Mhhmm." He transformed into his human form and rubbed his stomach. "Soul Eater? Is that a restuarant?" He grinned ferally. "Think you could get your old pal hooked up with a booth there?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Damnit, she'd forgotten what a pain this guy was! Still infinitely better than listening to a lecture about the importance of scupture angles for an hour, though. "Nevermind." She eyed him warily and noticed something was off. Gone was the greeny-blue mold and the patches of graveyard dirt, his hair was no longer clumped together with grease and dirt, either. "You're clean." She blurted out rudely. He grinned and she cringed when she saw his greenish teeth. "Well, kinda."

He scowled and conjured up a cigar. "Yeah, kid, don't remind me." He bit off the end and lit the stogie up with a snap of his fingers. "Turns out, being eaten by a sandworm was considered part and parcel of my punishment. Usually ghosts don't survive sandworm attacks, so it was basically an execution."

She thought about this for a moment. "So, it was like when they give out the death penalty, but the law says that if it is carried out, but the prisoner comes back to life, then he will have technically served his debt to society?" Lydia looked him over. "But what does that have to do with ghostly hygiene?"

He grinned proudly. "Sandworm spit me back up, I guess I didn't taste too good because of the grime."

She made a face. "Yuck."

He laughed riotiously. "Yep, so once Junebug realized that I'd made it through the punishment for my 'crime'," he put air quotes around the word crime."she decided that she'd love to torture me s'more. She told me that since it was my dirt that'd saved me, my dirt had to go just in case I did something else in the future that would warrent death-by-muth'r-fuckin'-sandworm." He smirked at her and she blushed involuntarily.

"Righto." He reclined in mid-air. "So, babes, where's tweedledumb and tweedlebitch?" He waved a hand and a margarita glass appeared with a live worm wriggling at the bottom. "Shouldn't they be in here already and freakin' out or somethin'?" His voice transformed into Barbara's. "Lydia Marie Deetz, how could you do this to us?!"

She mumbled an answer and crossed her arms. He summoned up an ear trumpet. "Say that again, babes, couldn't quite hear ya."

"I said 'they're gone'. " She snapped harshly. "They moved on, you know..." She waved her arms around over her head. "Up there."

"Ooooh," He pursed his lips. Literally, his lips became a Gucchi clutch. She raised an eyebrow at him, unamused as he literally unbuttoned his lip."You want me to get 'em back?"

She stared at him in awe. "You can do that?"

He made a smug little noise and slurped up the worm along with the last of his drink. "Urp...Come on, babes, you're talking to the Ghost with the Most, here! I can do anything." He paused. "Well, I can as long as they're waiting to get checked in with . From what I hear, those waiting lines are a little slice of Hell in Heaven. They're backed up like a gas station toilet after a burrito convention."

She made a disgusted face, but couldn't stifle a giggle. Still, something nudged the back of her mind and she became more than a little suspicious. "Wait a minute, aren't you angry?"

"Whuh?" He raised an eyebrow at her and rolled his eyes. "Oh, naaawww." He waved a dismissive hands. "Holding a grudge is too much work, babes. Like I always say, keep your past...and your gas...behind you because that way it'll have a harder time catching up with you."

"That easy, huh?" She said, still not entirely conviced. "Water under the bridge?"

"And all the way downstream, babe. No worries. Although, if you want me to try to bring the twits back, then you'd have to do something for me." He polished his fingernails on his lapel. "A real deal and all that jazz. No backing out this time, you know."

"Could you please stop calling them names?" She glared hard at him and he laughed, unaffected. Lydia considered his offer hard, though. If he could do as much as he insinuated perhaps..? "No, I don't want you to force them back here. They're going to be much happier where they're headed. I could never compromise their afterlives just because I'm too selfish to let them go."

His expression turned peevish. "Well, then, what th' hell didja call me for? I got places to be, people to emotionally compromise. I'm a busy guy, babes. When I pop up, somethin' goes down. Got that?"

Never, ever in a million years would she admit that she'd only called him because she was lonely. Pride was not something she would lay down for a disgusting, perverted poltergeist. Although, as much as she despised herself for it, she didn't want him to leave so soon. So she thought up a plan and oh, it was childish. She knew it was, but she simply couldn't turn down the temptation to finally get revenge. A bigger person would let everything go, but Clare had had this coming to her for years. She deserved it. It might even teach her a lesson. "What would you want from me if I asked you to...erm..say...pull something?"

He smiled like the lecher he was. "I'll pull anything you want me to pull, babes. Just..ahem..say the word." He licked his hand and slicked back his wild hair.

"You know that's not what I meant." For some reason, his antics didn't really bother her as much as she'd thought they would. Beetlejuice was crass and crude and definitely perverted, but she wasn't unnerved. "I want to get back at someone."

He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Alright! Now you're talking my language. Leave it to me, Lyds, just tell me who the sucker is!"

She felt guilty already. Hadn't she always told herself to take the higher road? Now she was taking advantage of her situation. Then she remembered the incident from earlier in the day-

It was right after third period English and she'd gone to her locker to get her science books. As soon as she opened it up, a small square of paper fluttered to the tile floor. She picked it up curiously. It definitely wasn't from one of her friends.

Dear Lydia,

I always thought you were really something, but I was kinda afraid to tell you because of what other people thought. Now that we're about to graduate, I realized that it doesn't matter what others think. I don't care about the creepy goth stuff, I just want to get to know you better. If you feel the same way about me, meet me in the auxillary gym at 3:30.

Love, Cody D.

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. Cody Dillon was the guy she'd been drooling over since freshman year! Sure, he was great-looking, but he also had a sweet nature. He was very smart and blew the image of the sterotypical jock right out of the water. She didn't hesitate in her decision to stay after school.

When the final bell had rung, she'd ran to the bathroom to fix her hair and make-up. Her eyeliner always feathered a little over the school day and she wanted to look her best. She finished and went into the auxillary gym. The lights were off and she squinted around to see if Cody was somewhere in the corner or something. Suddenly, there was a splash and the lights flicked on.

Laughter echoed harshly off of the walls as Clare Brewster and a few of her cronies snapped pictures. The shock wore off enough that Lydia realized she was wet and freezing, and an ice cube had made it down the front of her shirt. Shards of melting ice slid around the floor and soaked her shoes. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry even as she forced herself past the group of snickering girls.

"These are going all over the school's bulletin board!" She heard before she was through the double doors.

"Earth to Lyds," The poltergeist was waving a hand in her face.

She blinked at him and a decidedly mischievious smile grew on her lips. "It's time to make Clare Brewster pay." She growled.

Beetlejuice grinned, laced his fingers together, and cracked his knuckles. "You know, babes, revenge is sexy on you." That being said, he took up space on her bed. "Any idea what ya want me to 'juice up? How about a snake?" He turned into that giant snake that she'd last seen when he'd tried to force her into marrying him. She jumped back, her hands squeezing the edges of her dresser until her knuckles went white.

She took in a shakey breath. "How about 'no'." She tapped her lip thoughtfully. What made Clare Brewster shudder in her six inch prostitute pumps? She could recall an incident with a spider in Home Economics class. "She's afraid of spiders." She mused.

He cackled and slapped his knee. "Classic! A huge man-eating spider! I've seen Tarantula about 132 times..." He plucked a rat from his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, along with a pair of rusted fingernail clippers, a hedgehog, two tortilla chips, a lightbulb, a large bowl of dead beetles (presumably his lunch), a pressed poinsettia, a handful of wriggling snakes and some assorted lizards, and finally a spider. "Hmm...what shall I do? Make it talk? Give it wings?"

"Aww, how cute." She cooed and gingerly picked up the delicate thing. "I'll call her...Ginger."

"Ginger?" He sounded revolted. "What the hell kind of a name is that for a spider? Name her Maimer or Killer or..or..Arachne or something. For cryin' out loud, Ginger's whatchya call a friggin' house pet. " He pointed at the spider. "She's grade A scare material!"

She petted the arachnid gently. It snapped its mandibles at her and skittered around in a circle. Everyonce in a while the legs would jerk in a kind of jig. "Look, Beej, she's dancing!" She grinned at him broadly. "I think you should make her a tap-dancing spider."

"Fine, but that's not scary at all!" He complained as he snapped his fingers. Little boots appeared on the tips of each leg and the spider began kicking its legs out even more. It spun around and the heels made a clickety-click. Once the performance was over, the spider bowed. "The scary is still salvagable." He grumbled, cracking his knuckles. Ginger grew and grew until she was too heavy for Lydia to hold.

"Hello." Ginger clicked and did another couple of dance steps.

"I have to admit, Beej, that was impressive." She kneeled down to inspect her new pet. Ginger was about the size of a poodle and fine red hairs stood at attention on her lower abdomen. "Ooh, and she even has the stinging hairs. Good job, thanks. This will scare the bejesus out of Clare!"

"No prob, babes. That was nothing, I tell ya!" He boasted. "Now, let's get down to business!"

The two of them planned late into the evening. Three hours after the sun had set, they were still perfecting their plan to terrify their target when Lydia's stepmother called up to her that dinner was ready. Lydia bit her lip and wrinkled her nose as the smell (or rather, stench) of Delia's homecooked meal wafted upstairs. "Ugh." She shuddered. "I hope she hasn't tried to make duck again. Last time, I swear it was still quacking."

Betelgeuse watched her leave with an anticipation, not just for the thrill of scaring a cruel bitch into temporary insanity, but for Lydia's reaction when he helped her in this way. True, he was always keen on what _he_ could get out of a deal, but he also found, to his profound annoyance, that he would enjoy Lydia's satisfaction. He grinned and ground out his third cigar of the night. This was turning out to be interesting. And, more than he loved scaring the living shit out of breathers, he adored interesting things. Lydia had just made his 'most interesting thing to give a shit about' list and he planned on drawing this out for awhile.


	2. Chapter 2

AN:3/ Alright, so I own nothing! Well, except for the plot and a few OCs.

ON WITH THE SHOW!

There were several things that Juno despised. She hated paperwork, mainly, but she also detested skim milk, yappy little lap dogs, prissy upper-crust snobs, bigotry, fascism, those little sandwiches at parties that never do _anything _for one's appetite except make you feel anorexic, jigsaw puzzles that were missing one or more pieces, pink, and several other things that to list them would take a year and a half.

But the one thing that really made her rant and rave, mostly because she loved the law more than she loved a nice cuban and a good glass of vintage red (which was really saying something), was a loophole. Now, granted, she understood that no matter what she did, about a rough 50% of loopholes would remain, she was still on a villigent witch-hunt for the dratted things.

This was why, when Betelgeuse had managed to wriggle his way out a major sentence, she sat down at her desk and chain-smoked her way through a four-day marathon of _Seinfeld_ mixed in with the massive tangle of red tape he'd left for her to file through, she'd been steaming. If she hadn't been dead, then she would have died from a brain anyurism caused by extreme frustration and unexpressed anger. Don't get her wrong, she didn't hate the spector himself. It was just that his antics thoroughly PISSED. HER. THE. FUCK. OFF.

Now, however, she felt like someone had punched her in her slashed throat. Uncharacteristic worry spread through her mind like a cancer as she read a single paragraph on the letter over and over. Miss Argentina bit her lip and fiddled anxiously with the slits of skin on her wrists. This would kill the poor, dead bastard, she thought as she pushed back her chair and scrambled through her massive filing cabinets.

"Juno? Honey?" Miss Argentina rocked back and forth on her heels. "What's the matter?"

"Missy," Juno said through her clenched teeth. "we've got a problem. Granted, it's Geuse, so that shouldn't be a big surprise." She paced the length of her office as she read Betelgeuse's rather hefty file. Geuse's overworld life had never been much of secret because, as much as she hated to admit it, the guy was a celebrity in his own right. He'd lived in England at the start of the Bubonic Plague, survived that somehow, only to suffer from what the breathers now know as PTSD and ended up jumping into the Thames. Being a suicide, he was immediately given to Juno (who had only been part of the bearucratic mess for about seven years at that point) as an assistant. He showed a penchant for mischief even then and caused so much trouble that they had to put a Power of Three curse on his name.

Fastforward a little more than half a millenium, Betelgeuse had been around long enough to be savy with his ghostly powers. He was now the most powerful 'geist in the Neitherworld. And that was reason the higher-ups had passed that damned letter on to Juno. It was dated to have been a proposal from around 1786 and its authorization date was yesterday March 27, 1992.

"But the dead can't be brought back to life anymore." Protested Miss Argentina. "Reincarnation ceased after 1348 during the Withdrawl of the Dead Compromise. The Black Death forced so many people to an early grave that there was no way anyone could sort everyone out in time to allow them back to the aboveworld so that they could finish out their leftover time! That's why the Neitherworld began giving out real estate." She furrowed her brow. "Everybody knows that."

"Yeah, well, Betelgeuse died _in 1347_." She stomped her foot. "He was supposed to have been reincarnated, apparently. And since he's so much trouble, the higher-ups probably just want a break for about half a century." She violently smashed her lit ciggarette into the skull-shaped ashtray on her desk. It'd been a very nice gift from a personal friend of hers. The side was even inscribed with spidery silver handwriting that said **_To Smoke or Not To Smoke, That Is The Question!_** "And you know what a vacation means for me?" She asked dangerously, already lighting up the start of her third pack of the evening.

"Erm..more paperwork?" Miss Argentina said hesitantly.

"MORE PAPERWORK!" Juno slammed her fist down on the table. "Damn you, Geuse!"

"Damnit, Betelgeuse." Muttered Lydia as she tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep. "Stop staring at me!" She cracked open one eye and there he was, just like he'd been a few minutes before, hovering over her bed lazily with a huge grin on his white face. He floated backwards and right into her mirror, where he stayed put, but continued to gaze at her unabashedly.

"But I love staring at sexy things." He purred.

"Fuck off." She covered her head with the massive amount of pillows, hoping to shut him out.

"Gladly...with your help." He cackled madly and her covers flew off of her bed. The pillows wriggled out from under her head and she growled, clutching them with all her might to keep them from joining her bedclothes which were currently doing a jig around the room.

"BJ, I need to get to sleep!" She wrestled down her mattress. It bucked like a wild bronco and she held on desperately. "If you don't stop it, I'll call off the frickin' prank!" Everything immediately settled down and she gathered up her covers from the mirror, over which they had fallen. Betelgeuse blocked out her reflection, his wild grin replaced by a decided pout.

For some reason, the pesky, petulent poltergeist found her mirror to be the perfect place to hang out for the time being. He insisted it was because he'd needed to scope out his working environment. Of course, this meant that he also needed someplace to stay temporarily since he was just too lazy to 'juice himself between the Neitherworld and the land of the living every few hours. She'd protested, but he'd whined until she caved.

And right now, she was wishing that she'd put up a better fight. He pulled a face at her, a red and yellow snake tail creeping out of his nose and writhing around. "Boo." He rumbled, his gravelly voice even deeper now that he had a serpentine nasal blockage. Rolling her eyes, she let the cover fall back into place. "Aww, come on babes! I was jus' jokin'. Can't a dead guy have a little fun? C'mon, work wid me here!"

"I could say the same to you." She said, finally pulling the bedspread off and throwing it haphazardly back on her bed. "A bit of cooperationg from you would be nice. If we're going to be roommates for the next three days, then we each have to compromise." She grabbed her pillows off of her dressed and replaced them. "That means you have to respect-"

He made a disgusted, retching noise and stuck out his tongue. "Yelch, respect _and_ compromise, ya know _I _hate it." He pressed his red fingertips up against the glass. Pleading with her wasn't below him. Although, Betelgeuse did have pride...somewhere. It was probably buried under all of his junk at the Roadhouse. He just didn't care at the moment. She glared at him fiercely, the threat in her eyes was sincere. "Alright, alright! Sheesh.." He placated. "Fine, what are the r-ru-ru-" Face and mouth contorting around the simple word, he couldn't even say it.

A tiny giggle escaped, but she quickly covered it with a cough. "Beej, you can't keep me awake. I love the dark as much as the next person, but my teachers aren't very forgiving of falling asleep in class." In fact, now that she thought about it, the teachers of Miss Shannon's weren't forgiving _period_. Her classmate Elanor had had her knuckles smacked with a ruler for simply doodling in the margins of her notes. And poor Bertha, who was very nice albeit a bit slow, was made to stand with her nose in the middle of a chalk circle just because she was caught chewing on a pencil.

He blew a raspberry. "Stiffs, the lot of 'em. I've seen dead people more lively than those cu-"

"Beej!" She gasped, her cheeks flushed.

"Whatever, those _bitches_," He smirked at her, as if waiting for her approval of his language."need to be taught a lesson of their own!"

Catching what he was implying, she wondered what sort of monster she'd let loose. She'd need to keep an eye on this situation. "Absolutely not, I know what you're thinking and it is a definite N-O. In case you don't understand that, NO, and again negative."

"But baaaaabeeeessss-"

"No." She said firmly, climbing back into bed. The space between them, despite the fact that it honestly meant nothing considering he could phase through the mirror at any point, comforted her. "When you turn on the 'juice, I have no idea what's going to shake loose. I want a nice, planned, artful prank. No snakes, lizards or unnecessary creepy-crawlies. No tacks on the teachers' chairs, and certainly no tricks involving the principal. I brought you back here and I could send you back just as easily."

"Not if you have metal plate screwed onto those plump little lips of yours." He mentioned casually, his tone sickeningly sweet.

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, we're bringing up the past again? What happened to 'under the bridge and all the way downstream', huh?"

"Touchy." He snickered and pretended to wipe away a tear. "Oh, Lyds, can't an ol' deadbeat like myself reminisce over happy times?"

"Sure, just do it quietly." She snapped, despite the quirk at the corners of her lips. One good thing about having him around was that she was smiling more. She sighed, she hadn't felt quite like this since the Maitlands had taken their opportunity to ascend. This probably signalled insanity because what sort of normal person would feel happier with the dead than with the living? She glanced at the mirror and Beteljuice waved cheekily. Inwardly, she grinned, knowing that he'd probably creep on her while she slept despite her warnings.

Hmm, no normal person would act like her, she decided before drifting off. But that was because she was strange and unusual.

Clare Brewster knew she was perfectly perfect in like, every way, like totally. The way her hair like curled up at the ends and her totally fab nose had just the right amount of puckish-cutie-pieness. Her wardrobe was like totally awesome, courtesey of Mumsie and Daddykins. Clare was such a totally hot babe, she knew that because all of the football players from the boys school across the street would wolf-whistle at her as she sashayed her like petite butt home from school to her yoga instructor's studio.

Like, everyone knew that Clare ran the school. totally adored her because Clare was well-rounded and stuff. Also because she was very hot, but would always call it 'sensational beauty'. Clare totally outdid the rest of the gymnastics team like, all of the fucking time, so she didn't understand why there was a team, like, in the first place. Her grades were like, off the wall, and all of the teachers sucked up to her because most of them had slept with her Daddykins and she like, knew, and they like, knew she knew.

So she'd always gotten her way. Like totally. Well, she had until that bitch Lydia Deetz had come along. Clare wasn't even sure the girl was like, a girl. How could someone stand having such terrible hair? Seriously, it was down to her shoulders, black as coal, and stuck out in every direction like she'd like, gotten caught in an electrical storm. Obviously Deetz was born to be like, the Bride of Frankenstein. And when Clare had tried to like, help by pointing out her like, flaws, Lydia's reply was stupid. "Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster. The monster never had a name. I would be the Monster's Bride."

From that point on, Clare Brewster like, totally hated that terrible Lydia Deetz. For one thing, Deetz was smart and Clare could not, like, stand smart people. Mostly because smart people were hard to like, manipulate. Also because they were hard to insult and that meant Clare would have to think. Clare did not like thinking. It gave her headaches and dulled the sheen of her hair. Being blonde was hard work, like totally. So everytime she had a fight with Deetz, she'd have to, like, redo her hair.

Her latest scheme to embarrass Deetz had gone swimmingly. Like totally. Deetz went home ugly and soaked and, like, utterly humiliated. But now she had a better, bigger plan in mind. Like totally. It was going to be the social death of that stupid, smart goth bitch and Clare was, like, going to be the grave digger.

Lydia awoke to find that the space between the posts of her canopy bed had been covered in spidersilk during the night. Ginger the tap-dancing spider hung in the middle of the massive web snoring loudly. The gothic-styled girl yawned and stared sleepily at the foot of her bed, too tired to ponder the implications of that discovery. She stumbled out of bed, slightly twitching as her body did when her blood sugar was low in the mornings. "Urgh." She pulled on her favorite houserobe and fumbled for the lightswitch just outside in the hallway.

One glass of strawberry milk and a handful of dried banana slices later, she was awake enough to glance at the clock. She still had about two hours before school, giving her enough time to get a shower and get dressed. Hopefully, Betelgeuse wouldn't cause a ruckus and make her late-

CRASH.

"EEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! CHARLES, CHARLES! GET IT! GET IT! SMUSH IT INTO OBLIVION!"

She closed her eyes. That would be Delia.

"DIE, DIE, DIE!"

And that would be Charles.

Smash! Thump, thump, Thump, crash!

"And there goes Delia's newest scuplture." She grumbled as she got up to see what was the matter. Delia nearly fell down the steps as she ran, still screaming and shouting gibberish. She bumped into Lydia, nearly knocking them both to the floor. "What's wrong, Delia?"

Delia's hysterics quieted slightly as she saw her calm stepdaughter. She grabbed Lydia's shoulders desperately. "You..ahhahah..love spiders don't you, honey?" Delia's eyes were wide and crazed. "Ahhahaha...there's a giant..a..a..giant...tarantula the size of a pitbull in our room!"

Unsure of how to take this situation, Lydia patted her stepmother soothingly on the shoulder. "Erm, it's okay. I'll...uh..take care of it for you." Ignoring Delia's high-pitched grateful whimpers, she took the stairs two at a time. What she saw both shocked and, sadistic as it may be, amused her. Her father, his fragile emotional state of being causing him to shake violently in his worn slippers, was fending off Ginger with a piece of Delia's shattered porceline scuplture and a pillow.

Ginger appeared to be confused and was obviously just trying to get past the strange man in her way. "Dad, just let me take care of this." Lydia gently eased the knobby bit of 'art' from his hand.

"We need to call the exterminator!" Exclaimed Charles Deetz in a squeaky, panicked voice. "Lydia, get back before it tries to eat you!"

"Did somebody say 'exterminator'?" Lydia felt like punching him right now, she really did. Betelgeuse, dressed in an outfit that Dr. Venkmen would have been proud of, came running into the room. He had a whip at his side and a green aerosol can that read 'Bug-B-Gone'. A pencil-thin mustache covered his upper lip and he'd put on a green safari hat.

"H-h-how.."Spluttered her father as he stared at Betelgeuse in wonder. She braced herself for the recognition, the screams of terror, and the fleeing of the premises. It never happened.

"Mr. Beetleman, at your service, sir!" Betelgeuse grinned and bowed low. "Handy-dandy handy man and exterminator extraordinair!" She frowned at him, he was enjoying this role way too much. What a ham! "I was in the neighborhood and heard the tell-tale screams of someone in need." Then as a afterthought, Beej smiled slyly and wrapped a casual arm around Charles' shoulders. "Of course, we'll have to discus payment and fees later,"

"Whatever, just get that thing out of here!" Shouted her father. He ran downstairs to join her stepmother, who was now quietly sobbing into a monogramed handkerchief.

Lydia gritted her teeth. "Beej!" He simply grinned and shrugged, then snapped his fingers and Ginger was gone from her parents' room. He sprayed around some Bug-B-Gone for show and made a performance out of the entire thing. "Is she gone for good?" The spider hadn't done any harm, why hurt it? After all, he was kinda Ginger's creator in a sense, how could he do something like that!

"Not really," He whispered as he laid down a few labelled spider traps. "I just sent 'er back to the Neitherworld to my place. We'll keep 'er there 'till we need 'er."

She nodded. "Probably safer that way."

Once Betelgeuse had finished his job and the Deetzes saw that the spider was truly gone, they couldn't thank enough. When he pretended to leave, her dad stuffed a handful of cash down his front pocket. Suffice it to say, Beetlejuice wouldn't have to worry about money for a while. He grinned, reappearing in her mirror and counting out the bills. "I should really make this handyman gig a thing."

"Oh? Just like your bio-exorcist job?" She quipped while packing up her bookbag.

He shrugged, tucked the money into his usually starved wallet, and phased out of her mirror. "Ya don' have to go to school today, babes." He told her while examining his dirty fingernails with false interest. "I could 'juice ya up some chicken pox or somethin', then you'd be outta school for a while." With a snap, her entire bookbag was devoid of her books again.

"But I have a test!" She protested, trying to shove her books back into her bag. They floated up to the ceiling out of her reach.

"Pfft. They'll have to let you make it up." He waved a dismissive hand. "You wanna scare Clare into the next century or what?"

"Or what." She muttered under her breath. Arguing was futile, she knew that in the end he'd convince her and she'd skip school. She looked up. He was giving her a puppydog face with his lower lip stuck out and his eyes gone wide and starry. "Fine, but this better just be an illusion, I don't wanna be really itchy."

"Unsuit yourself." He said. When the juice hit her, it felt like a volt of fuzzy lightening had zapped through her body. It heated the air, but not to an unpleasent degree. His juice wrapped around her like a snake, enfolding and enclosing her completely. For a few seconds, it was impossible to breathe as if the power had compressed her lungs. All of this took only a moment, then she was gasping for air. She looked down at her hands and saw only her normal, pale skin marred by nothing more than the underlying blue of her veins.

"Are you sure it worked?" She asked him doubtfully.

"Look in the mirror, babes." She gasped because all up and down her arms was an angry red rash that crept up and showed through the collar of her shirt.

"Deadly voo!" She pulled up her sleeve to reveal a small bite mark. "Nice thinking, Beej.I can say I was bit by that terrible spider." She chuckled. "What a brilliant plan. Now..what to tell Dad and Delia so that they don't rush me to the emergency room?"

"Just say that the bite isn't deadly, you had check it out for you and he said to stay home and rest for a couple of days." Betelgeuse'd had much experience in making up stories. He lied practically every minute of every day. Honesty just didn't sit well with him, it put him off his lunch. Speaking of lunch, he snatched the bowl of beetles from his coat and began crunching.

"Ew.." Lydia shuddered. "I'll be back up after a bit." She grabbed some clean clothes for her shower. She sniffed her houserobe and made a face. "Blech! Your Bug-B-Gone smells like something died!"

He cackled and flipped over in mid-air. "See ya later, aligator."

"In a while, crocodile."

Delia and her dad were just too easy to fool. Delia insisted on slathering calamine lotion all over the affected areas, so Lydia was forced to sit through the motherly clucking. Meanwhile, her father went on and on about how brave his little girl was for helping . Thank goodness Delia allowed Charles to make Lydia the soup. Chef Ramsey would have had a field day with Delia's cooking, especially when she tried to make anything that included more than three ingredients. After much ado about nothing, she was promptly sent to bed with a glass of milk and the bottle of lotion. Lydia crossed her fingers that they wouldn't come and check on her.

First though, she was going to have to take a shower. What the hell was in that Bug-B-Gone? It smelled like he'd liquified something that had been rotting in putrid mud for years. And now that smell was all over her clothes and everything. Hopefully, the nightgown and robe wouldn't need burning. The black silk gown was her favorite gift from her grandmother, who had sadly passed away four years ago. Sighing, she allowed herself to dwell on her few fond memories of New York.

Back before Lydia had moved to Themiddleofnowhere, Maine, she'd lived most of her life in New York, New York. She'd hated it, too. The only good thing was the growing gothic scene that was rapidly gaining popularity thanks to the emergence of bands like the Sex Pistols and Alien Sex Fiend. Oh, and there was her grandmother. Grandma Meena was a New York woman through and through. She was tough and heaven help the poor sap that tried to cross her. One time, about a week after her eighty-third birthday, she'd beaten back a guy who'd broken into her apartment using only a pair of salad tongs and a thimble. Best of all, she was the only one in Lydia's entire immediate family that truly understood her.

Grandma Meena was Charles's mother and had introduced Charles and Virginia, Lydia's biological mother. However, as much as she'd loved Virginia, she hated Delia. She lived just long enough to see Charles and Delia get married. That had been the cause of the move in the first place. Charles had felt so much guilt over Meena's death that he had a breakdown. So his doctor advised that he go on a vacation for a while to someplace quiet and serene and that was how this entire mess began.

The steaming water drizzled down in a continous stream that fogged up the glass of the shower stall. Lydia rested her forehead against the cool glass. What the hell was she doing? She'd called back a disgusting, cruel, sadistic poltergeist just because she missed having someone to talk to. That was beyond sad, it was just plain pathetic. Beetlejuice had nearly killed her own dad, almost forced her into marrying him, and..and... "Fuck." She growled.

What did it matter anyway? That happened years ago, her dad was fine, and the Maitlands were in a better place now. Beetlejuice had let everything go, so shouldn't she? Enough of this self-examination, either she accepted the fact that she was happy Beetlejuice had come or she could send him back. So she made up her mind for the final time and that was that. Maybe she'd invite Beej to stay for a while after they'd finished with Clare. Would he want to?

She shook off these thoughts and finished quickly. When it came to Beetlejuice, it was best not to overthink things.

He was waiting for her when she returned. He grinned, showing his unsightly green teeth and she found herself smiling shyly back. "Hey, babes, I was just thinkin'..." She snorted. "Laugh all you want, but sometime it happens. Anyway, I remember that once upon a freakin' time, you wanted to see the Neitherworld-"

Her jaw dropped. "You couldn't be offering what I think you are, are you?"

"If I'm lyin', then I'm dyin' ...again." He twisted his wrist and a slip of paper popped into his hand. "Like before, I can't tell ya the words, but I wrote 'em out for ya. This incantation'll take ya straight to the Neitherworld." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hm, I'd better show ya what my place looks like so that you don't end up somewhere random." Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and a model of his house came into being. "Looks like that, get it?"

"Got it." She nodded.

"Good. Send me back and I'll wait for ya."

"Right, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" With a loud crack like lightening, Betelgeuse disappeared. The piece of paper that he'd been holding floated gently to the floor where she picked it up.

"Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary," She visualized his home in her head and focused as hard as she could. _There, that's where I want to go!_ "Ghostly hauntings I turn loose...Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

The air in the room chilled to the point where her breath fogged up before her eyes and the sunlight creeping in from her window dimmed. Shadows danced on the walls, which began to steadily grow upwards with the agonized groans of stretching wood and plaster. The walls changed from the sunny yellow Delia had enforced to a dark purple-black. She touched them in awe and found cold stone beneath her fingers. "Whoa..." She breathed. A bright light flashed around her and suddenly she was in a form-fitting black pvc body suit draped with a red spiderweb-print poncho that just barely grazed the ground. Taking a moment to steady herself, Lydia grabbed the knob of the oddly shaped door that had popped up in front of her. "I feel like Alice about to enter Wonderland." She thought aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

"Miss Juno! Miss Juno!" Miss Argentina practically flung herself at the older lady. She had a death grip, no pun intended, on a single sheet of paper and was waving it around like it was a banner in a 1930s Womens' Rights parade.

"_What_?" Juno asked, a little more harshly than she intended to. She felt a headache coming on.

"The exec...you know the one that works for the higher ups..he was here just a second ago. He told me to give this to you!" She fidgeted with her beauty pagent sash like she always did whenever she was nervous. "I read it and you'll never believe-"

Juno puffed a calm cloud of smoke her way. "There's a human in the Neitherworld, I know." She snubbed out her cig as if she had not a care, which was really saying something for the typically highly stressed case worker. "I sensed it as soon as Beetlejuice made the door. His ectoplasmic signiture is like a beacon to those of us who are sensitive to it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "He expended an enormous amount of power..I didn't think he had that kind of ability..."

Miss Argentina smiled a little. "Seems like he's always surprising everyone, huh?"

Juno laughed, a rare thing. "Oh, yes, Missy. I'll give that perverted son of a bitch one thing, he has style. Style and power." She lapsed into a laden silence, then finally said, "There's only one human he'd ever risk his ass for and her name is Lydia Joyce Deetz."

Miss Argentina looked down at the paper she held. The name was, indeed, L. . "Why would he do that? What makes her special out of all the other he's tried to con?" Missy asked quietly. "It was a run-of-the-mill, bio-exorcism job for him."

Juno sighed. "No, it wasn't, Missy. Don't you realize that? Even I can see it!" Her secretary gave her a blank stare, silently pleading with her to elaborate. "Look, he's always had the opportunity to get out via a marriage of convenience, but he'd never taken advantage of it before. He was satisfied working for his ego and his pocket, but then...he wasn't, understand?"

Missy's eye's widened as she suddenly realized what Juno was hinting at. Then she grinned and began to giggle. Juno smiled half-heartedly along with her. "The Maitlands only confirmed my suspicions when they told me everything about their interactions with him. He said, and I quote '_The only one I think I _can_ deal with is Edgar Allen Poe's daughter...I think she understands me._' unquote." She pulled out a fresh pack and let it rest on the edge of her bottom lip, unlit. "And now, I'm going to sit back and let this all pan out."

Juno handed Missy one of her own and lit her up. Missy took a long drag and released the smoke slowly in cute little puffs through her nose. "Oh, but what about his reincarnation? That will make things difficult."

Juno smirked and brought out a small stack of papers out of Betelgeuse's file. "Oops, I'm such a butterfingers." She said as she dropped her flaming match onto the paper. "Those will take _weeks_ to replace!" She said as she dropped the flaming scraps into the trash-shute. "What a shame, we all know he can't be reincarnated until those were put through the red tape treatment." Juno let out an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose the old bastard will just have to wait."

Missy nodded and smiled knowingly as she left the office. Her employer may seem harsh and unforgiving, bold and opinionated, but there was the heart of a romantic under that facade. "Oh, Miss Juno, I just hope he appreciates what you're doing for him." She said under her breath. She glanced upward and noticed that the numbers had changed since she had gone. "Next!"

*****************(^w^)*******************************

Whatever she'd expected the Neitherworld to look like this wasn't it. What had she been expecting? Oh, well, maybe a depressing atmosphere of eternal doom and skulls everywhere, but certainly not _this_.

There wasn't anything gloomy about this place. Skeletons strolled by whistling, _how is that even possble without lips?_ she thought, and dead people in various states of decay or preservation (some would've passed for a living human with oddly colored skin) went about their business without even noticing her. A man with a knife sticking out of his throat passed by and nearly ran her over. "Pardon me." He said without sparing her a glance.

She peered around her with increasing interest. It seemed that the Neitherworld, or at least this part of it, was built on a series of upraised stone platforms that looped and ran on for miles in every concievable direction. "Watch where you're goin'!" Screamed a dead cabby as he zoomed past, nearly clipping a sallow young man.

"Hey, I'm walkin' here!" Shouted the guy. "Asshole!"

She closed her eyes. "New York all over again,C'est vraiment un petit monde apres tout!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Can it be? A Frenchwoman! C'est merveilleux!" She turned to see a tall, grinning skeleton in workout clothes grinning down at her. "I am pleased to meet you, Madamousielle. My name is Jacques LaLean and pardon me for asking, but may I have yours ma petite fleur?"

She blushed. "Oh, I..I'm not really french. " His face fell and she instantly felt a bit guilty. "But it's nice to meet you, Mr. LaLean . My name is Lydia Deetz and I'm looking for a friend of mine. Do you think you could help me?"

Jacques nodded eagerly. "Oh oui, I know this part of the Neitherworld quite well. Tell me, who is your friend? Perhaps I know him." He chuckled with amusement. "Your accent, it is natural, ma petite fleur. Even I was fooled!"

"Thanks," She blushed. "His name is Beetlejuice."Suddenly everyone in the street stopped what they were doing and gaped at her. Jacques' eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. The silence was overwhelming.

"Not him! Not now!" A large street vendor gasped and began hastily packing up his wares.

"WHERE?"

"Ahhh! He's coming!" Screamed a ghoul with a baby. "Hide the children!"

"Beetlejuice is coming! RUN!" Within minutes, the entire street (which had been fairly crowded before) was bare and devoid of any sign of life (death?).

Jacques recovered quickly from his shock, though he stared at her in absolute surprise. "You are friends with Be-etlejuice?" She nodded.

"Have I done something wrong?" She asked nervously. "I didn't mean to cause such a ruckus."

"No, no, it's alright, ma petite fleur." He smoothed a hand over his skull. "It is just...we are oversensitive at the moment. Be-etlejuice has been especially quiet lately. Usually we are barraged by his pranks, C'est la Vie. But," He shrugged. "For a week there has been _aucun_. So we are, how you say, most jumpy."

"Oh.." She glanced around. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't be interested in helping me anymore, then."

"Put it out of your mind, cheri, I will be happy to escort you to Be-etlejuice." He offered her his arm chivalrously. "In fact, it is on my way. You see, ma petite fleur, Be-etlejuice is my neighbor. Not a very nice one sometimes, but I must not complain!" He chuckled. "People, they say I am brave for staying so close to him, but he is not so bad as all that."

"No, I guess he's not." She agreed with a smile.

Jacques let out a sigh. "Though, I do wish he lived a bit more..er..downwind." She looked up at him and they both burst out laughing. "This is the spot, Lydia." He pointed just down the road where a mailbox sporting vicious fangs proclaimed it to belonged to . As if the giant sign on the house behind it wouldn't give the mailman a clue as to who lived there. "Au revoir, Lydia. This is where I must leave you." Jacques bowed. "I must continue with my morning jog, but perhaps I will see you again?"

"You can count on it, Jacques." She waved goodbye to the kind skeleton man and rapped on Betelgeuse's door.

"Whaddya want? I paid the rent already!" BJ opened the door to find her standing there. "Oh, hey, babes, how ya doin'? No trouble finding yer way over?"

"How come you never told me this place was so cool!" She demanded, rushing into his house like a rabbit on steriods. "I was just escorted over here by a walking, talking skeleton!"

"Oh, that must have been Jacques. You wouldn't be interested in him, he's a goody-goody two-shoes." Beetejuice wrinkled his nose. There was suddenly a series of loud snaps and taps that sounded like machine gun fire...

...or a dog-sized tap-dancing spider doing a two-step. "Ginger!" Lydia exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, 'ello, Lydia." Ginger replied, causing the goth girl to step back in shock. "Nice ta see ya again."

"She can talk?" Lydia bent down to give an awkward hug to the friendly arachnid. "Beej, you really outdid yourself!"

The poltergeist leaned against the wall and proudly surveyed his work. "Aww, ain't nothin' babes, nothin'." He snapped his fingers and Ginger was now the proud owner of a handsome top hat. "Now, my dear," He said in a terrible British snob accent. "What _shall_ we do next? Conjure up roaches and put them in her hair? Or perhaps the old geila monster in the undies gag?"

"Er, no." She giggled. "I think we should just give her a taste of her own medicine."

"Orange or cherry?" Beetlejuice transformed himself into a huge bottle of cough syrup.

Lydia rolled her eyes, she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. "I meant that I simply want her taken down a notch or two. I'm worried about what sort of trouble her brand-name arrogance might get her into in the future."

Beej paused, unable to comprehend the concept of feeling sorry for such a bitchy, whiney, doll. "But, Lyyyydsss..." He complained. "She's sounds like a yuck-fest and not the good kind."

"Be that as it may, she shouldn't have to learn her lesson out there in the real world where there are much crueler things than you and your pranks." Lydia replied firmly, her mind was made up. She would get her revenge, oh yes, but she would use it to help pull a poor rich girl back from the fake world of glam to cold, hard reality. Hopefully, this would be the most gentle bit of tough-love Clare could possibly recieve.

Beetlejuice smiled eerily and seized the moment to swoop down and circle her like a lazy shark. "I can be very cruel, Lyds. I promise ya that." Something about the glints in his electric green eyes told her that this was not a lie or even a slight exaggeration. At the risk of thinking like a harlequin novel heroine, she could tell that there was a touch of danger about this powerful ghost.

"Oh, I'm sure."

He smirked and that strange light was covered up. He was Beej again, mostly harmless pranking poltergeist (unless you got too close to his socks or armpits). For a moment, she wondered about this character, this cad of a cadavre, she also wondered what was up with all this alliteration, sheesh. What was this shudder at his words? She'd spent nearly a year in fear of him after their first disasterous meeting, but this felt different... "Babes, I gotta tell ya, you've got to stop zoning out."

"Huh? Oh, right, sorry." She said sheepishly. Her eyes widened and she looked down at her body. "Phew." Thank goodness Beetlejuice kept his literal translation stuff to himself! She was enough of a black sheep as it was without turning into one. "So, Beej, you're the prank expert here-"

"Thanks for noticin'." He blushed and twisted up a bit in an overdone shy pose. "I was thinkin', ya know after the spider bit, we could ahhh...pull a cat outta the bag." He reached into his suit and pulled out an enourmous, hungry-looking black panther. "Or rather, a snake, ya know what I mean?" A pop and the panther turned into a writhing black garden snake. Harmless, but it had effective scare potentional.

"Snakes and spiders?" She said sceptically. "A bit cliche, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "Eh, what can I say? I'm a _traditional_ kinda guy." He pried the snake's coils off of his arm and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Save that guy for later." Then he reached in again and out came a crocodile. "We could always put one of these babies in her bathtube."

Lydia patted the reptile sadly. "No, she'd probably have her daddikins make shoes and a purse out of him." At this, the croc let out a 'YIPE!' and fled back to whence it came.

"Reptiles," Groaned BJ as he readjusted his suit jacket. "Anywho, babes, since you don't want 'er gettin' physically hurt or anything, maybe we can try..." He put on a pair of sterotypical doctor's glasses and a red couch popped into existence while hovering beside him. He grinned and spoke in his British snob accent. "Psychological warfare!" He immediately changed costumes again, this time into a buff general-type.

She giggled. "Beej, I swear you cosplay more than an Otaku!" Still the idea wasn't all that bad..."We could make her look terrible!" She exclaimed, struck by brilliance.

He smirked. "Go on? This sounds interesting."

Lydia paced back and forth, kicking random bits of clutter out of the way. Consequently, clods of dust rose into the air and she sneezed several times violently. She examined herself. "Shoot!" There was a thick coating of greyish dust all over her black clothing! How in the world was she supposed to get that off? Beetlejuice would be the last person in either world to have a lint roller! Wait a second...clothes...Clare...BINGO! "I've got it! We're going to make her look terrible, but she won't be able to see it! When she checks herself, she'll appear normal, but on the outside-"

"She's gonna look gross?" He asked hopefully. "Oh, come on babes, let me plant huge zits all over that ignorant child's nose.." He jumped up and down in mid-air. "Ooo, ooh, and a booger hanging out of her nose! And her hair in tangles with bits of leaves and dirt!"

Her eyes lit up and she laughed loudly along with him. How could she enjoy being so sadistic, a little voice asked, she'd always been so passive and willing to let go of the bullying. _I guess he just brings out the mischief in me_, she thought quietly as though she were unwilling to delve further into that line of thinking. "This is gonna be great!"

"Hey, babes." She looked up to see Beetlejuice wink at her. "Is that a hint of sadism I see? Beej likes."

"Not a chance in hell, _babes_."


	4. Chapter 4

Lydia arrived at school the next day a little bit earlier than usual. She secured her bike to the rack and went to wait on the steps. Soon enough, a few more of her schoolmates filtered into the schoolyard. Even after going attending school at Miss Shannon's for several years now she had kept to herself mostly. She never had been very good at making friends and her schoolmates tended to avoid her anyway, so she didn't really have any friends beyond pleasent acquaintences.

Clare was still not showing up and Lydia began to wonder if the snobby blonde was sick. It would serve her right, she thought, because Lydia was lucky that she hadn't caught something after being forced to go home cold and wet in the middle of September. Her suspicious were quelled when, just as the bell rang, Clare rode up on her neon pink bike. Everyone else hurried inside while Clare was busy locking up her ride and Lydia lingured outside.

"Babes, let me 'juice 'er!" Whined Beetlejuice. He had turned into a monochrome striped beetle and was currently buzzing right around her ear. "She's right there, babes, c'mon. Let me zap 'er while we got a chance!" He said eagerly.

Lydia nodded and whispered back. "Yeah, go ahead. Just...remember not to go overboard, Beej."

"Pfft," Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, whatev's, babes. Now watch the master ply his trade! Iiiiiiiiiit's SHOWTIME!" He turned back into his regular self and swooped down behind Clare. With a twitch of his red-tipped pointer finger, he zapped her with a bolt of 'juice. Clare jumped in alarm and looked around, but Beej had already disappeared by then. He was grinning broadly (well, as far as bugs go) when he zipped back to Lydia's shoulder.

The 'juicing had done more than enough to Clare. Her ever-perfect complexion was now marred by bright red bumps and little black dots. Her hair was a monstrosity, twisted and mangled with visible split ends and small leaves, mud, and twigs stuck in it. Her lips were chapped and scabbed and her eyes were pink and puffy while the clincher was certainly the nasal secretions leaking out of her left nostril. Her clothing was rumpled and had stains and finally her shoes were torn and had holes. Lydia was almost afraid that Beej had gone too far, that is until Clare came up waltzing past her with a tangible air of superiority.

"That was awesome, Beej!" She murmured to him. "I could kiss you!"

"Well, ya know...if tha's how ya wanna pay me back for this, I ain't complainin'." He replied with a great deal of self-satisfaction. He smiled when she laughed. Lydia hardly ever laughed, mostly she just quietly amused, but he was proud that he could send her into fits of teary laughter. Besides, he'd never met anyone before her who actually laughed at his terrible punny jokes or his literal translation gags or even his antagonistic pranks.

That morning was absolutely hilarious for the pair of them as they watched their hard work pay off. Clare was bombarded by disgusted looks and even glares from the more germaphobic people. Whenever she walked into a classroom the teacher would go slightly green and politely ask her to sit in the back of the room. Clare would stare at the teacher in confusion and then make a rather loud fuss in protest. Despite her tantrums, she was always sent to the back.

Already it was lunch and no one would let Clare to sit with them. A pack of athletic girls (Lydia vaguely remembered them as being part of the school's soccer team) snickered at Clare and one of actually called out to her. "Hey, Clare! You've got too much money to look like you've been dumpster diving!" Obviously, the others thought this was terribly clever and they let out loud guffaws.

Clare hung her head dejectedly and acted as if she were about to resign herself to just sitting in the middle of the floor to eat her lunch. Lydia suddenly didn't think that the joke was all that funny anymore. She frowned and sighed, then got up and went over to where her worst enemy was standing. Clare was fighting back angry tears and glaring at the soccer team. "Hey, Clare, you can sit with me."

Clare glanced around at everyone, then let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "Fine, thanks I guess." She followed Lydia back to the one remaining lunch table. It was empty except for the pair of them (and Beetlejuice, but he was hidden away in Lydia's hair while still in bug-form). This was the table socially reserved for the outcasts, nerds, dweebs, etc. Bertha and Elanor typically sat with her, too, but today the pair were busy studying for a big exam in Algebra II.

Clare picked at her food. "Deetz?" She mumbled.

"What is it, Clare?"

Clare shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tugged at her collar nervously. "Is..is this how you feel..when I like...you know...?"

Lydia nodded sagely. "Yeah, Clare, it is."

"...It's not very fun." Clare said softly. "I don't even know why they're saying these like, totally untrue things! I've checked in the mirror, like, six times and I look, like, totally fabulous!"

"Uh..." It was Lydia's turn to feel uncomfortable. "Maybe they're just tired of you telling them how ugly they are compared to you. Everybody has a cracking point, you know."

"Deetz...I..." Clare choked on her words and grimaced. "You're...like..okay, I guess." She checked around in every direction to make sure no one had heard her. "But don't you, like, dare tell anyone I said that!"

Lydia chuckled and marked an X on her chest. "Cross my heart."

At the end of the day, Beetlejuice zapped her again to get rid of the illusion. He and Lydia watched the depressed girl ride her bike home. "Funny, Beej." Lydia remarked as they made their own way back home. "I would have thought you'd throw a fit about me ruining the prank during lunch."

Beej shrugged. "Eh, you wanted to teach 'er a lesson, babes. I was fine wit' lettin' ya handle the teachin' while I did th' punishin'." Lydia smiled the rest of the way home. Once there, she saw that the car was gone.

"Delia? Dad? I'm home!" She found a note on the table that explained their absence. Her dad had run out of his nerve meds and they had to make a run to the drug store in town. "Huh, well, they'll be gone for a while." She went up to her room with Beetlejuice following close behind. She noticed that the poltergeist was dragging his feet a bit and frowning. "What's wrong, Beej?"

"Well, the prank's over...so.." He toed the carpet. "Yer gonna pay me an' send me back to th' Neitherworld now, right?"

Lydia smiled up at him. "I promised you a kiss, didn't I?"

He tensed up, his expression became unreadable. "Aw, babes, I was jus' kiddin' 'bout that. Ya don' have to-" She put a finger on his lips and leaned forward. Beej could feel her breath on his cheek and he closed his eyes. For a moment, there was a pleasant sensation and a warm tingling where her lips met his skin. Compared to him, she felt almost burning hot. And just like that, it was over and she had pulled away, but his cheek was still warm. He touched the place that she had kissed with reverence. "Thanks, Lyds."

"Beetlejuice, you don't really have to go back, do you?" She mumbled, suddenly she had lost her nerve and couldn't believe what she had done. Her face turned red and she focused her attention on the floor. She took a deep breath. "I know you've got loads of stuff you could be doing and going on adventures in the Neitherworld, but...could you visit me once in a while." She fidgeted with the bedcovers. "I wouldn't be asking if I weren't desperate Beej. You're the only person I can relate to now that the Maitlands are gone and if I don't have someone to talk to...I'm afraid I'll end up like I was before."

"Oh, uh, yeah." He really wasn't very good at this 'feelings' kind of thing, but he'd try for Lydia. "Ya talkin' 'bout yer suicide phase?"

She nodded glumly. "I was really screwed up back then. I thought I was a coward for not being able to go through with all of my plans." She put her head in her hands and Beej, at a loss, awkwardly rubbed comforting circles on her back. "Beej, I'm really tired of being alone. Please don't go, you can bother me all you want and play pranks on my parents and the neighbors. I don't care, just please stick around." Her voice was breaking and Beej actually had to look away from her for a minute to regain his own composure.

"Ya know, I always knew I'd have ya beggin' for me one day." He joked, prompting a snort from her. She lifted her eyes and he wiped away the wetness on her cheeks with his thumbs, trying not to smirk at the streak of grime his digit had left behind. "Hey, now, I'm gonna stick around, babes. We're thick as thieves, you 'n me, yeah?" She smiled and he showed his teeth in a feral grin. "Believe me, babes, yer much more interestin' than ya give yerself credit for. Don' worry, I'm not goin' anywhere anytime soon." He threw up his arms. "Hell, I've got my whole afterlife ahead of me, so I've got time to kill." He 'juiced up an alarm clock and smashed it with a giant mallet to prove his point. "See? Dead as me."

Now that she was reassured he was going to stay, Lydia lay back on her bed. "You're the best, Beej."

"I'm not just the best, Lyds. I'm the Ghost with the Most!" He frowned for a moment. "Oh, and Lyds, promise yer ol' pal one thing."

She propped her head up on her hand."What's that?"

"Never think about killin' yerself ever again." He lit up a stogie. "Trust me, sweetheart, being dead ain't all it's cracked up ta be."

She stared at him for a while before nodding. "I believe you."

*******(^W^)***************

"I can't believe this!" Juno shouted at the inanimate mound of paperwork that had just been plopped on her desk. The flood of paperwork had increased twofold, not only because of her procrastination of Beej's sentence, but also because of integration between human souls, demons, and inhuman souls from separate dimensions. "They must want me to die a second death!"

Missy merely shrugged. "Oh, Miss Juno, you need a vacation."

"Hmph, you're right." Juno said around the cherry cigar she'd stuck in the corner of her mouth. She always chose cigars when she was under the most severe stress. "Maybe that's what I'll do after all of this mess and the thing with Betelgeuse is straightened out. I must have earned a year of vacation by now. It's been twenty breather years since I've had a break longer than ten minutes."

Missy took a look at the papers and smiled. "Well, it's nice to know that we'll have some new faces to look forward to. I've never seen a demon before."

"Bah," Juno spat. "Demons are just rats in suits. They're all handsome enough, sure. Then they open their fat traps and start talking contracts and blah, blah, blah. When it comes down to it, they're nothing but hyped-up mercenaries and indentured servants."

"Come now, you have to admit they are good for a laugh." Said a snide voice. The owner of said voice was tall and pale. He held himself ramrod-straight and handed Juno another handful of papers. "The report on Valhalla that you asked for, dearest Juno."

"You know, Loki, for all of the sucking up you do, I fully expect your next monster-child to be part vacuum." She snapped back half-heartedly. "Thank you, now go do your job."

He made a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am." He smirked at Miss Argentina, who bowed her head shyly. "Goodbye, you two. Good luck with the integration and immigration slips, they're three pages each." With further ado, he left the office.

"How did you get a god as an assistant, Juno?" Whispered Missy in an awed tone of voice.

"Oden likes to keep his sons grounded, so he sends them off to do odd jobs in the Overworld, the Neitherworld and sometimes even the Underground. I got stuck with Loki, who can at least figure out that two plus two is four, while poor King Jareth got stuck with the meathead brother Thor."

Missy gasped. "The Goblin King? I've heard things about him..."

Juno smirked. "Yeah, well, I've met him once. Pretty okay guy if you can get past the arrogance and his singing voice is something worth dying a second death."

Missy made a face. "He steals children."

"No, the children are wished away to him fair and square, darling." Juno corrected gently, her expression hard as stone. "People just like to spread ugly rumors. Besides, he treats the kids well. The kids can stay with him and be his subjects, allow themselves to be turned into goblins or he'll send 'em over to Never Never Land and that pesky pretender will take care of 'em."

Missy listened intently. "Nothing is as it seems, I guess."

"Nope. Take these inhuman souls, for instance." Juno rolled her eyes. "Everybody's gonna make a big deal about the integration of what they call 'monsters' into dead society. That's just because they're different. It's not as if these inhuman souls don't have feelings like we human souls do, but nobody likes what's different and what's hard to understand. So they make up these stories to make themselves feel safer and superior."

Missy sighed. "I see your point, but that's terrible."

"That's life and death, Missy. Just trying to warn you that you shouldn't listen to rumor mills anymore. Try getting to know Loki, he's an okay guy. Or try talking to one of the non-human monster souls. Remember, tentacles and purple scales do not define a soul."

"Maybe you should talk to the people who've been saying these things." Missy replied.

Juno allowed her lips to curl into a half-smile. "No, maybe _you_ should."


End file.
